


What do I get?

by Akichin



Series: London Calling [1]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: 1970s, AU, Anti-thatcherism, F/M, Implied/Referenced Incest, Jacob probably hasn't a permanent job, Mentions of Anarchism, Politics, they argue as always, university student!Evie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-03
Updated: 2018-11-03
Packaged: 2019-08-16 19:22:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16501244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akichin/pseuds/Akichin
Summary: «In your opinion, any excuse is good for an easy fight.»A rather short scold, today, but he couldn't blame her; he's born for this sort of thing, fights don't always go well - and his blood-stained face is a proof of a rare failure - but knowing he has a place to return makes the taste of the defeat a little more bearable.«These are hard times, you know, we're not all excellent scholars. We have to find something to do.»It's a half-truth, a hint to tell her that yes, he's proud of her achievements at the prestigious King's College London, he won't stop loving her despite being a bloody fussy, but while she's hiding behind the study of the old Classics, it's Jacob who has to face the reality out there.And no, it's not a pleasant reality at all.





	What do I get?

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is a little start for an AU!series I have in mind.  
> Only a few things first:  
> 1) English isn't my first language (you'll notice haha)  
> 2) I haven't a beta  
> 3) The title is inspired by the song "What do I get" by Buzzcocks

**What do I get?**

* * *

 

For Jacob it has become a habit, for the common good it isn't something to consider a refined act or properly legal, but for him there is nothing inappropriate with prying open a window to enter a flat.  
Clearly, it isn't a random window nor a random house - it's all his sister's fault, _Evie_ \- he thinks - because after months of a forced reconciliation, she still hasn't decided to give him a copy of her key.  
She has good reason not to, but every time they meet, Jacob makes it seem like a random thing, as if it's entirely acceptable to invite himself to someone else's house at any time of the day.  
Sometimes it happens to wonder if he isn't abusing too much of his twin's patience, but it's a fact - _precisely because they are siblings!_ \- Evie couldn't slam her door in his face, abandoning him to the dangers of the great London.  
  
Actually, it isn't the case of Marylebone, an elegant area that gives him a natural sense of disgust; the sight of the elegant buildings or the faces of the passersby – with their expensive cars and their aristocratic attitude - is enough to realize in what a boring environment Evie decided to live.  
Yet, he tries to hold back his own prejudices as soon as he arrives there because yes, though not superficial and completely different from the majority, even his Evie is a part of that élite.  
Her university colleagues, _if they had knew_ , wouldn't treat her in the same way, but she maintains a wall of strict privacy with everyone in class - a silence also due to a dose of implied shame, but the phase in which Jacob considered offensive such behaviour ended weeks ago.  
Now he gives all himself to maintaining this fragile equilibrium established with difficulty between them and, in fact, in the last period their relationship has taken a positive turn - in some ways to the extreme of social conventions - but it isn't the best time to think about the various evaluation errors that they both make every day.

  
Then, to distract himself, he looks at the apartment, thinking about how much impersonal it looks like.  
In the living room, recently furnished, there is still an annoying scent of new, a detail embellished by the damn armchair on which he's used to sit waiting for the return of his dear sister.  
He hasn't figured out yet why the furniture is still covered by the surface protection films, but in his heart he's grateful for his sister's meticulousness because the films emphasize the trace of his passage, silently revealing how much _Jacob Frye isn't no longer a ghost in Evie's life_ , but a real, everyday element, more familiar than this same flat.  
It's a detail not to be underestimated because nothing is taken for granted in their relationship; being part of the same family means little or nothing for both - they're different, like it's always been, and the only legacy of their deceased father is to be stubborn, terribly stubborn.  
But from Jacob's perspective, only Evie could make obstinacy a fascinating quality - one among many others that characterizes her.  
He bets they would quarrel again this night, and hearing the jingle of keys outside the door, makes him realise that he finds something stupidly amusing in their bickering; maybe not as tempting as his daily street fights, but Evie could stand up to him as much as the worst thug in the streets of East End.

  
«I'll pretend to be amazed to find you here.»  
The light is still off, barely visible is her silhouette in the darkness of the entrance, but Evie, instead, has already recognized him - as if a breath or the way he sits down are enough to understand who he is.  
She has always been the most careful of the two, Jacob barely admits it, but as far as sarcasm is concerned, the battle is definitely won by him.  
«What can I do, my favourite sis always looks so kind to me.»  
She isn't, but a kernel of truth is hidden well behind his words; the irony is a double-edged sword for him when Evie is there; she's too smart to understand his jokes, but, in this case, to avoid arguments, she merely answers with a careless murmur.  
He expected more, a reprimand, perhaps, but when the lights are on - the expression on her charming face turns into a grimace of veiled apprehension.  
They has always been emotionally constipated, so much that sometimes Jacob wonders why they still care about each other.  
He has an answer, but he knows how unwise it is for two people united by an inseparable bond of blood.  
«Jacob, what have you done this time?»  
A bag on the ground, hands on the hips – an usual pose that he has waited with silly trepidation; he shouldn't consider it a healthy habit, but he has a weak spot for the innate maturity of his sister, for the moments where the useless diatribes dissipate and only the good side of their souls remain.  
«You know, things here in London just got a little weirder today. We needed to work off some tension.»  
He says this while pointing to the newspaper he has brought with him - _Freedom_ \- now forgotten on the glass table in front of him; he notices Evie's eyes resting on the first page and, for a slight puff from her lips, it isn't difficult to understand how much she shares the disappointment with him.  
They rarely speaks about politics, but it's a subject that excites Evie - her and her desire to change the world - while Jacob has always had a less diplomatic approach.  
One thing is certain: for either of them the new Prime Minister Thatcher seems to bring good news for the country.  
«In your opinion, any excuse is good for a easy fight.»  
A rather short scold, today, but he couldn't blame her; he's born for this sort of thing, fights don't always go well - and his blood-stained face is a proof of a rare failure - but knowing he has a place to return makes the taste of the defeat a little more bearable.  
«These are hard times, you know, we're not all excellent scholars. We have to find something to do.»  
It's a half-truth, a hint to tell her that yes, he's proud of her achievements at the prestigious King's College London, he won't stop loving her despite being a bloody fussy, but while she's hiding behind the study of the old Classics, it's Jacob who has to face the reality out there.  
_And no, it's not a pleasant reality at all._  
«Remember that I am older than you, and this, until proven otherwise, is _my_ home.»  
The words echo for a long time in the silence that follows; he sees her disappear from the living room for some seconds, an absence that tests his temperament, but then when he sees her return again with a medical kit readily in her hands, a relieved view for his tired eyes.

  
«Well, to begin with, four minutes of difference don't authorize you to treat me like a child.»  
Evie just replies to his words with a raised eyebrow, treating his wounds with a clean gauze and an excessive complacency; his brother's grumbling doesn't seem to touch her – it's a little revenge against his naivety.  
On the other hand, Jacob is struggling in front of her reaction: he could reproach her, telling her that feeling joy with the suffering of others isn't a sign of good behaviour, but the amused expression on her face is enough to forgive her once again.  
«Ever thought of leaving that faculty of bookworms and go studying nursing, instead? I bet the uniform would suit you perfe-»  
«Jacob Frye, don't even dare to say it in front of me.»  
Another wave of pain struck his face - nothing that particularly amazes him, but the faint blush that illuminates a pair of freckled cheeks reminds him that, despite the quarrels, what he has always desired is near, before his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> The "Freedom" I quoted in the fic is an anarchist newspaper (it was printed back then)  
> \---
> 
> find me on tumblr (I'm open to requests, if you're interested) - @awesomeakimi


End file.
